Redden and Railing were standing close enough to hear them, and exchanged a quick look. They peered over the side of the airship once more, tracking the split from one horizon to the other without finding an end.

“I hope we don’t have to go down into that,” Railing whispered to his brother, trying to be careful not to let any of the others hear.

“If we did, we’d probably come out on the other side of the world,” Redden whispered back.

Farshaun stepped close. “If you did, you would probably find the spirits of the dead waiting to receive you.” He snorted derisively. “Now, keep quiet.”

The old man turned to Khyber. “We’re close to the Fangs. Once there, we have to go on foot.”

“We can’t continue to fly?” The Ard Rhys was taken aback. “It’s much safer if we remain aloft.”

“Doesn’t matter. We still have to go on foot.” Farshaun walked away.

They flew on for two more hours, the morning drifting into afternoon. The weather changed once more, this time the skies turning hazy and overcast, the sun fading to a dull glow and a heavy mix of clouds and mist wrapping so tightly about the Walker Boh that Farshaun had to take her down to within a hundred feet of the ground just to see where they were. Additionally, he had to slow her to a crawl, afraid they would run into a cliff face or rock formation. At a dead-slow speed, they crept ahead until they encountered a wall of spiraling rock formations that speared skyward much higher than the hundred feet at which the airship flew and clustered so thickly they were impossible to sail between.

“The Fangs,” the Speakman whispered.

Khyber Elessedil was standing close enough to hear. “How far do they stretch?”

“Miles,” Farshaun answered after listening to the Speakman’s whispered response.

“Can we sail around them?” She checked her compass. “We’re flying west still. Can we turn north or south to get past?”

This time the Speakman addressed her directly, his insect body folding in on itself as he crouched down in the pilot box close to Farshaun. “You have to land the airship and walk. The marshland you look for is here.”

Redden and Railing, still standing close enough to listen in, turned as Mirai came up beside them. “Grim land down there,” she said. “It has the feel of a place that doesn’t like visitors.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Railing grumbled.

The Ard Rhys directed Farshaun to follow the Speakman’s orders and set the airship down at the edge of the Fangs. The twins and Mirai could feel the descent begin as the Rover crew leapt up to work the light sheaths and radian draws. The mist seemed to thicken further as they dropped, closing in about them, wet and cloying against their skin. Mirai made a rude sound and wiped at her face.